


Boots

by Teethteethteethteethteethteethteeth



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Autistic Party Poison (Danger Days), Gen, Gender, Nonbinary Jet Star (Danger Days), Nonbinary Party Poison (Danger Days), bad metaphors, character study kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25155151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teethteethteethteethteethteethteeth/pseuds/Teethteethteethteethteethteethteeth
Summary: Party Poison? Gender?
Relationships: Jet Star & Party Poison (Danger Days)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19





	Boots

Jet Star’s repainting eir helmet on the back porch one evening when Party Poison flops down on the wood floor beside them.  
“Jet.” Ey set eir helmet down.  
“Hey, Party. What’s up?”  
“You don’t have to sign along when you talk when it’s just me, you know.” Jet shrugs.  
“I know. But I might as well practice, hm? Gotta get better at it before Ghoul loses their patience.”  
“Ah, they know you’re tryin’.”  
“Yeah, and I’d like to get really good, you know? For them and Kobra both.” Poison grins.  
“So fuckin’ earnest, Jet.”  
“Aw, you know I am, Party Poison. Was there something you wanted?” Poison shrugs, suddenly looking away— a stark contrast from their usual too-intense eye contact.  
“Uh. Nevermind, I’ll talk to you later? I think Kobra needed help with, uh, dinner?”  
“Party, we already ate.”  
“I have to go!” And they’re gone. Jet Star picks their helmet up again and returns to painting. 

A week and a half later, and the Fabulous Killjoys are getting ready for a concert. Jet Star is tying Ghoul’s hair back for them when Poison slinks in the door, still in the old t-shirt they wear to dye their hair. They sit silently while Jet Star finishes up, scratching at their wrists. When Ghoul’s hair is as out of the way as it will ever be, and they don’t leave the room, Poison stares at them as Ghoul putters around, oblivious.  
“Ghoul?” No response. Jet Star waves a hand in their line of sight, pointing them towards Poison, “Uh, do you mind maybe leaving? I wanna, uh, I want to ask Jet something.” Ghoul salutes them and starts to wander out. Jet grabs them by the sleeve of their jacket and points to the pair of headphones resting on the mattress. Ghoul sticks their tongue out at him but grabs the headphones and jams them on their head, posing like a fashion ‘droid in the City. Jet Star and Poison clap along accordingly, and they bow as they walk backwards out the door, backing into the doorframe on their way out. Jet Star turns to Poison.  
“So. What is it that’s so important you had to kick poor Ghoul out?” Poison blinks, and Jet Star clarifies, “I’m exaggerating. What’s up?”  
“I was wonderin’ if I could borrow, uh, something of yours to wear tonight?”  
“Oh, for sure, Party. You know you don’t have to ask.” They fidget with the beads on their wrist, and look up through their freshly-brightened hair to meet Jet Star’s eyes.  
“I was wonderin’ if I could borrow one of your skirts, maybe?” Jet Star smiles.  
“Sure. Didn’t know you wore that kind of thing.” He steps over piles of Ghoul’s stuff to grab the bin he keeps his clothes in, beckoning Poison over. “I’ve got a couple that might fit you, and given how long Kobra takes gettin’ ready, we can probably alter it if you want to wear one of the others.” They smile shyly.  
“F’r real, Jet?”  
“Yeah! You looking for something flashy? Or more subtle?” Poison considers, eyebrows coming together in thought.  
“I think, uh, nothing showy yet?”  
“Poison, you scared?”  
“No!” They huff, digging back into the bin. “Maybe? I’m just. I think I’m not sure how I feel? I want to try, but start small, I think.” Jet holds up a knee-length black skirt.  
“How’s this, then? Plain, and it’ll match with anything.” Poison grins.  
“Sure!”

Jet Star and Poison spend the next half-hour altering the skirt to fit their larger waist, and they head off to the concert wearing it and a shirt so orange Kobra won’t look directly at them, even with sunglasses. At the end of the night, Poison slips the skirt to Jet Star with a grin, and Jet Star pushes it back into their hands, fingerspelling  
“G-I-F-T”. Poison grins and corrects him, modeling the sign for Jet Star to copy. 

Poison wears the skirt often over the next few months, and Jet Star smiles to emself as ey watch him fidget with the hem or twirl in the float fabric. 

They come up to em again one night, carrying a plastic cup in each hand.  
“Ghoul made... some kinda powder drink, an’ I thought you’d want some?” Jet Star grins.  
“How bad is it?” Poison shakes his head and hands Jet Star the cup. Ey accept, cautiously dipping the tip of eir tongue in the liquid. It’s not poison, and it’s not half bad, so ey take a sip, gesturing for Poison to sit down on the mattress beside them.  
“So, uh. Can I talk to you?” Jet Star raises an eyebrow.  
“Sure. Am I in trouble or something?” Poison snorts into their cup.  
“Your fuckin’ city accent’s showing again. Whole extra syllable an’ everyth—“  
“Aw, Poison, you came here to mock me? Considerate.” Poison pokes em.  
“‘Considerate’? Now you’re just usin’ big words ‘cause you can.” Jet Star pokes him right back.  
“You know what I think, Party Poison?”  
“Hmm?”  
“I think you’re makin’ fun of me ‘cause you wanna say something, but you’re too scared. Am I right?” Poison flips em off.  
“Damn. You know me too well, or somethin’.”  
“Am I right, though?”  
“Yeah. You’re right.”  
“So what’s eating at you tonight?” Jet Star drapes an arm around Poison and drags him into eir lap while Poison scrambles to keep their cup from spilling.  
“Asshole.” They look up into Jet Star’s eyes, serious and shy. “I was thinkin’ I could ask you some questions? You let me know if they’re too personal, an’ stuff.”  
“Mmm. You’ve gotta work on your interrogation tactics. What do ya want to know?” Poison waves a hand.  
“Like, pronouns and stuff?”  
“You’re gonna have to specify.” They groan.  
“Like. You use a whole bunch of them, right? Including the ones you got in the City. How does it feel?”  
“To use the ones I was given? Hmm. I guess I’d say it’s like wearing clothe—“  
“Like _wearing clothes_?” Jet Star pushes them.  
“Let me finish. It’s like a jacket, or a pair of boots. It fits, but it doesn’t have to be the only boots you wear, hm? And you can wear different boots for different occasions, or different reasons. And sometimes they no longer fit you, or don’t work for what you need to do in them, you don’t have to wear them.” Ey look down to gauge Poison’s reaction, only to see him struggling to hold in laughter.  
“That’s really smart. But boots?” Ey huff.  
“Yeah? I got my point across, didn’t I?”  
“Yeah, you did.”  
“Anything else you wanted to ask? I’ll make a metaphor out of socks this time, special for you.”  
“Aw, really? I’m flattered.” Poison preens under Jet Star’s generosity.  
“‘Tis only befitting for a man of your peerage, oh Party Poison.”  
“That’s it, actually.”  
“What’s it?”  
“Don’t know if my man boots fit anymore. Want to try going back to she/her pronouns? They, too, but not he right now.”  
“Man boots. Phoenix Witch, that really was a bad metaphor.” Ey shake eir head in sorrow.  
“I know, right? Heinous.”  
“Thanks for tellin’ me, Party. You gonna tell the others?”  
“Yeah, tomorrow morning maybe?” They sit up in Jet Star’s lap and wrap their arms around em. “Thank you, Jet Star.”  
“Any time, Party Poison.”

**Author's Note:**

> Jet Star got to the Zones and began collecting pronouns like Pokémon.  
> Drop a comment below, and find me on tumblr @wishiwasthemoon-tonight <3
> 
> Also,,, uh, autistic Poison headcanon of mine is that they tend to re-use the same words and phrases when they’re nervous, so that shows up in this!!


End file.
